


What a Ride

by Sarek and Amanda Archive Maintainer (Selek)



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/M, Flitter, Terre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 14:06:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selek/pseuds/Sarek%20and%20Amanda%20Archive%20Maintainer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarek and Amanda take a ride together.</p><p>Written by Terre.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What a Ride

Title: What A Ride  
Author: Terre  
Series: TOS  
Rating: NC-17  
Pairing: Sarek and Amanda

January 20, 2030

The rain was bouncing off the pavement. Three flitters stood in a row at the curb, with three black-coated chauffeurs standing beside them holding black rain shields over their heads. Of course they didn't look the same. There was an Andorian, a Deltan and a Vulcan.

With a flick of his finger Sarek brought her running. She was directed beneath the shield and led to the flitter. Into the warm soft depths of faux black-leather seats. Sarek followed, the door closed with a whoosh and they were alone—for the first time in days, really alone—encased in dark windows and hidden, even from the driver.

Silence hummed between them. The flitter began moving away from the curb. She turned to look at Sarek and found him already looking at her; his wide shoulders hugged the upholstered corner of the seat and his feet firmly on the floor, his hands clasped in his lap. He looked relaxed, at ease, content. Indeed, slumberous lashes barely flickered as he studied her face. But there was nothing relaxed about those devil-dark eyes hiding behind the lashes. They glinted in a way that sent tiny hot frissons cascading down her spine. She turned her face away. Beyond the dark windows she could see city moving past at speed. From the corner of her eye she saw movement.

He moved like lightning, catching hold of her nearest wrist and pulling her across the gap separating them. She landed with against his chest; her silk skirt slithered up her thighs as he hauled her onto his lap. Her fingers clawed at his shoulders; her breath panted into his face.

"I want you now," he gritted.

"Yes," she answered breathy.

His lips claimed her. She groaned as his tongue caressed moist tissue. One of his hands began to stroke her silk-covered thigh, left provokingly exposed by her slippery skirt. She moved against him, breasts searching for contact with his chest, her hips pressing into the cradle of his pelvis where the thrust of his erection was making itself known.

"Oh god. Yes," she groaned helplessly.

He just chuckled low in his throat, then kissed her harder. Hurriedly he undid the clasps of her traveling cloak and removed it. Beneath she wore a Basque blouse. One light touch and he knew she was wearing no bra. "Interesting," he murmured as a hand began to unbutton the garment. His finger touched naked flesh until the waistband of her skirt stopped his progress. He then switched his attention to the other hand and finished the journey via her thigh. A single smooth slide between her thighs and he had found another interesting fact, no panties.

"Oh," she whimpered, when he discovered for himself how warm and moist she was. For the next few dizzying minutes she just hung on and let him work his magic. She moved, she stretched, she curled herself around him, she moaned into his hungry mouth. He broke the kiss on a hiss of tension, caught her chin between his teeth and bit, then her throat, then her breast, first one then the other, sucking at them. She clutched at his neck, his hair, the hair-roughened wrist attached to the tormenting hand. She begged, she pleaded, he growled something and came back to pester her mouth again at the precise moment she was threatening to topple headlong into the kind of orgasm that didn't belong in this situation.

"We can't do this here," she whispered anxiously.

His reply was a growl of impatience. A few words in Vulcan and the flitter was sliding to a standstill. Ten seconds later, Amanda heard a whoosh and realized that the driver had left them alone.

Embarrassment heat flooded her checks. "He will know what we're doing!"

Sarek was beyond the point of caring. His mouth claimed hers again; his hands claimed her hips. "Release me," he commanded in a throat-hoarse murmur.

"We shouldn't"

"We shall." Capturing one of her hands, he pressed it against himself. He was trembling as badly as she was, and maybe it was those tremors that stopped any more protest. A minute later she was straddling him, her mouth devouring his hot mouth while her body slowly took him in. She had never felt so wickedly wanton. She moved while he held her slender hips steady; she copied the movement with her tongue. His breathing was ragged; the flitter filled with the scent of their bodies. As she began to rise toward the edge, her inner muscles closed so tightly around him that he had to stop kissing her to throw back his dark head and close his eyes.

Pleasure like this could never be repeated, she found herself thinking as his hands reached up to frame her face and black eyelashes lifted to capture her eyes. She drove; he let her. It was a powerful, powerful aphrodisiac. When she orgasmed she cried out. When he followed he pulled her face into his shoulder and held her there throughout the ragged, pulsing finish until the weakness of exhaustion made her feel boneless.

They did not speak. Not then, not later, when eventually he gently eased himself from her and set her down on the seat at his side. Clothes rustled as shaking fingers replaced them into some semblance of dignity. Amanda kept her head lowered so her hair hid her hot face.

Cool air hit the interior as he requested a temperature change. A minute later the flitter was moving again. When had the driver returned?

They turned in through the familiar high gates of the Vulcan Embassy.

The flitter stopped. Sarek climbed out and held out his hand to assist her. Still without daring to look at him, she arrived at his side. She followed him to the doors, he then stepped to one side, as if to invite her to precede him. She took a single step—that was all—before he was lifting her up in his arms.

"What the...?" she questioned.

"Tradition." he answered with an amusing tone, and stepped over the threshold of the embassy with his bride of four months.


End file.
